Possessive
by blumoone
Summary: Eric and Tara have been spending too much time together and Pam is not happy about it. But two can play that game, can't they?


**A/N: I am so grateful for my readers, I really am. Even if it has been nearly four years since the show has ended, it is you guys that help give me motivation to keep writing Tamela fiction. So long as people keep reading and reviewing my stories, I will continue to write them. Know that. This is dedicated to you guys. Happy reading!**

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This was the seventh night in a row that Tara was late. Two of those nights the ebony skinned vampire hadn't even come home at all. And even though she had called her Maker to tell her that she would be bunking at Eric's, it had done nothing to quell the poisonous strands of jealousy that flooded every fiber of Pam's being. Jealousy, though she was loathe to admit, was one of her flaws. Pam did not like to feel as if she came to second to anyone – especially her Maker and progeny. And this little relationship the two were developing was something that she had not thought ahead of how much it would grate on her nerves.

Granted, she could not really deny her lover much of anything and the opportunity to exclusively train with Eric had been something Tara had been dying to do for ages and even Pam had to admit the practicality. She could handle her own in a brawl, sure, but the former Viking had over ten centuries of honed skills under his belt and as Tara had been into mixed martial arts as a human, it made sense that Eric be the one to tap into that side of his grandchild's nature. Pam didn't like to get her hands dirty if she could help it, her skills of mind games and manipulation far more astute than any hand to hand combat.

But if she had known that the training would put a week's worth of distance between herself and Tara, she would never have allowed it.

And the bond would be shut down during the session which only added to Pam's ire. Eric had suggested it as it would be counterproductive if every time Tara would be injured, the vibe would make Pam drop everything she was doing to tend to her progeny. So any pain the ebony skinned vampire might have been experiencing was shielded from her – along with any other emotion. When Tara did make it home, she would be far too exhausted to even change out of her clothes fully before the pull of dawn claimed her for the day.

So suffice it say, sex with her Maker was the last thing on her mind.

Pam couldn't take it anymore. There was but so long she could go without Tara's hands and mouth between her thighs and vice versa. Sexual frustration added to the pot of the other volatile emotions was threatening to create a full on atom bomb of catastrophic proportions.

It was with a chill in her cerulean stare and heated intent that she let herself into Eric's sprawling home, prepared to end tonight's sparring session by any means necessary. The underground of the estate was even more exquisite than the palatial home under the Fangtasia Revamped where she and Tara resided. The sound of clashing metal led her in the direction of the large gym and Pam stood at the door, arms crossed as she watched her Maker and her progeny locked together in combat with practice swords.

Tara seemed to be holding her own quite well, Pam observed, begrudging pride welling up in her chest as she watched Tara deflect Eric's attacks at vamp speed. But she could tell it took a great deal of effort and concentration on the younger vampire's part while Eric's expression was one of lazy nonchalance. Had he been human, he wouldn't have even broken a sweat. Or so the saying went.

But Pam didn't come to see a show.

"There a chance that you two will be rapping this up anytime soon?" she drawled from where she stood.

The sound of her lover's voice was enough of distraction that caused Tara to turn towards the source of the dry, unimpressed tone. Which in turn earned her a burn on the arm from the silver coated sword in Eric's hand.

Crying out sharply at the sudden pain, Tara dropped her own sword to clutch at her seared flesh. The pain would only last a moment before she healed but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Pay attention," Eric admonished with an arrogant smirk before turning his gaze on his progeny. "What are you doing here Pamela?"

"What do you mean what am I doing here?" Pam snapped, stepping into the large room, bristling at the tone and question, "I came to get Tara."

"Huh?" Tara murmured, brows furrowing as she looked back and forth between Pam and Eric. "What are you talking about?"

But Pam ignored the statement, her gaze fixed on Eric, the blue of her eyes as cold as the iceberg that sunk the Titanic, "Just because I agreed to this little medieval fair doesn't mean I gave permission for you to basically steal my fucking kid."

"No one is holding your progeny hostage Pam," Eric replied calmly, as if utterly immune to her propensity for tirades, "She is free to go whenever she wishes."

"Good," said Pam, rounding on Tara, "Get your shit, we're leaving."

"Hold up a minute," Tara said, totally confused by the fit her lover was pitching, "We ain't done with practice." It was only midnight, meaning there were five hours until the threat of dawn. And tonight she and Eric were going to work in the stake range to work on her accuracy at throwing stakes from long distances which would give her additional leverage during combat. She wasn't ready to leave.

For a fraction of a second, Pam's expression took on one of someone who had been slapped across the face but she ironed out her features before either of the other two vampires could make sense of it. "Fine. Stay. Stay the day then, since this is obviously where you want to be," she said in a eerily calm voice before glancing at her Maker, "And it's so good to know that you've finally got the little Viking prodigy you've always wanted."

Before Eric or Tara could even reply, she had vamp sped out of the door.

Tara cast troubled eyes in Eric's direction. "What the fuck was that about?"

Eric shrugged, though there was carefully concealed amusement dancing in his eyes, "She's your Maker. Now pick up your sword and don't drop it again."

()()()()

To say Tara was nervous was a sorry understatement as she entered the club the next night. She had taken Eric's advice and stayed the day, hopefully to allow whatever was eating at Pam to dissipate a little. She still didn't know what the hell was wrong with her Maker. And the fact that Pam was currently blocking her end of the bond wasn't helping either. Something was clearly wrong and it was starting to piss her off that she couldn't figure out what it was.

When Eric had offered her the opportunity to train with him, she had jumped at the chance. Eric was a thousand fucking years old, had fought in battles that she had only read about in history books. And she looked at is as a chance for the two of them to develop a camaraderie of their own as he was her grandsire. And the past week sparring with him had made her feel more apart of Godric's bloodline than she ever had before. But with Pam obviously mad at her about something, every fiber of her being was pushing her to fix whatever had been strained between her and her Maker. Training could resume after the fact.

The night was in full swing at Fangtasia Revamped and even she had to admit that she had missed the place in the last seven days she had been with Eric. It was home in every capacity of the word. And she just didn't trust the other employees with the bar and inventory, no matter how well she trained them.

Her eyes sought out Pam and found her almost instantly up on the raised dais at the front of the club, sitting, the utter epitome of gorgeousness, on the throne. But there was something else. And that something else made her blood boil. A growl trickled from her mocha dusted lips that parted to give way to glistening fangs that she hadn't even realized she had dropped.

There was a female, standing to the left of where Pam sat, whispering something in the blonde's ear that elicited sultry laughter from her alabaster throat. Tara knew that laugh rather well. It was a laugh that held the promise of sex. And as far as she was concerned, she was the only person on the planet that had the authority to pull that sound out of her Maker.

She vamp sped to the throne nearly scaring a handful of the human patrons that she had been standing beside half to death, coming to a stop directly in front of Pam and the woman who had irrevocably overstayed her welcome. The fact that the woman was a vampire only added fuel to Tara's wrath.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Tara seethed, glaring at the other woman with the promise of murder glinting in her obsidian eyes.

"Oh Tara," Pam drawled pleasantly, "How nice to see you tonight. This is Dana, an old friend of mine if you will. She was just turned about a year ago, imagine."

"Pleasure," Dana said, but Tara didn't miss the way the woman eyed her up and down, nor did she miss the almost reverent stare she gave her Maker. It was clear that once upon a time Dana had been a human plaything of Pam's. And that fact, no matter how irrational, only incensed Tara even more.

"Dana," Tara deadpanned, taking a step toward her that just crossed the threshold of an invasion of personal space, "Lemme give you some advice, you know big vampire to baby vampire? If you don't get off of this stage and away from my Maker, and should you ever even look in her direction again, I'm going to rip your head from your neck and make you watch as I drive a stake through your fucking heart. Get the fuck out of here."

Dana very nearly tripped over her feet as she vamp sped away from the malice and truth she read in Tara's dark eyes, not stopping until she was safely out of the club. But Tara wasn't done. She blurred to the DJ booth, grabbing and destroying the poor guy's laptop and turn tables, effectively killing the music, bathing the establishment in silence.

"We're fucking closed. I don't give a fuck where y'all go but everybody get the fuck out."

The patrons, human and vampire didn't have to be told twice. The club was vacated in the span of fifteen seconds. Tara rounded on her Maker, who still sat, as if undisturbed on the throne.

"Savage," she murmured, her lips curling into a smirk, a perfectly manicured brow arching as she regarded her seething progeny.

"Tell me you weren't going to fuck her," Tara growled, her face a mask of rage even her Maker who was over a century older than her felt a tiny shred of caution.

"I wasn't going to fuck her Tara."

Even the thought made Pam nearly shudder in disgust. She couldn't imagine anyone human, vampire or otherwise touching her body except Tara for the rest of eternity or until she met the True Death. Whichever came first.

"Then what the fuck was this little show about then?"

"You've been neglecting the fuck out of me and I'm sick of this shit."

That gave Tara pause, so much so that the anger all but evaporated from her features and before she even knew she had moved, she found herself at Pam's side.

"What?"

"You and Eric," Pam muttered, shamed that she could be so weak even if she was being honest, "You been spending too much time together and I don't fucking like it."

"Pam," Tara barked her Maker's name around a mirthless chuckle, "Do you really think I would choose Swedish Fish over your fine ass?"

"No," the blonde groused, growing more irritated with herself with each passing second, "Of course not. Do you really think I would fuck Dana when I have you?"

"Absolutely fucking not," Tara said softly, feeling embarrassment of her own as she looked around the deserted club. That was when realization dawned. With all the sparring and shit with Eric, she had been careless when it came to her Maker and quality time with her, on her, in her. And all that. The bond between them gave an unpleasant jolt that was akin to a smack to the forehead.

Tara's eyes softened and her lips curled into that of a predator's snarl. "I know just what you want."

"Do you?" Pam whispered, not at all missing the change in her progeny's demeanor nor the promise of sex, "You think so?"

"Definitely," the ebony skinned vampire growled, vamp speeding to straddle her Maker's legs, dropping a lingering kiss to Pam's pulse point. "Eric suggested we train three nights out the week instead of everyday. That means I got four days to love you up and love you down."

Pam purred with pleasure, glad that her Maker had understood where she had been coming from after all when it came to her progeny and lover.

"But," Tara said, even as she slipped a hand down Pam's body to flutter near her covered core, "Know if I ever see that Dana bitch in here again, I _will_ fucking kill her."


End file.
